


The One In High School

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: HS AU, M/M, Mentions of non neuro-typical behaviour, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 09:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Ben doesn't really feel like he belongs. Hux doesn't seem to care.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ben's views are not necessarily DC's views.

Ben hates moving schools all the damn time, but they swear to him it’s the last time. He needs the continuity for his education, and he really doesn’t want ‘home’ tutoring. (They tried, once, and it was the most ridiculous thing ever. He had even less friends, then.)

But even though they’ve said he can stay here til he graduates… yeah. There’s a social structure already in place. He’s an outsider, and it shows. The bonds are already there, and he’s on the fringes of too many demographics to fit in: too athletic to be a nerd, too intellectual to be a jock. Too tall to blend in, too rich to be assimilated. 

Whatever.

He’s only got to cope with this for a few years, then he can run. Maybe get a cheap RV, or… he doesn’t really know. He’s not going to follow either of his folks, maybe he’ll just… flip burgers or something. 

Until then, he has to deal with the politics. He’s on the team, but he’ll never make Captain. He’s got lower scores than he’s capable of, because he fudges some of his work so he isn’t singled out as a teacher’s pet. He’s just trying his best to coast, and offer thin smiles at most of the kids, to show he’s not nasty (even if sometimes he really doesn’t feel like smiling). 

There’s one kid, though, who he can’t smile at. Hux, which is a stupid name. Also tall, but never going to be a linebacker. He’s the kind to have precisely-drawn schedules and three redundant pencils he’d never share with you. Ben sometimes wonders if he’s on the spectrum, considering he doesn’t bother with social niceties, and he doesn’t keep his intelligence under wraps, either. He’ll correct anyone on any subject matter, and Ben still isn’t over the part where Hux told him not to bother with their group assignment, because he’d just lower their score, and sent him packing to do it himself. 

Yeah. Okay. So it was a while back, but it still stung. The whole point of group activities was learning how to work with people, and Ben had learned there were some people you _couldn’t work with_. Which was a lesson, but an unpleasant one. 

Not that there’d be anything wrong with him if he _was_ on the spectrum, it just would make some of his tics make more sense. The lack of eye-contact, or too much of it. The oddly affected speech, the hyper focus on his work… Ben can’t diagnose people, but he knows enough to guess. Sadly, he doesn’t know enough to know _how_ to talk to someone like that, if they don’t want to be spoken to. That’s a bit beyond his area of expertise, and plus - why bother if the kid hates him so much?

Anyway, Ben forgot his jacket because he’d been distracted by the gnawing hunger in his belly, and now he’s gonna be even later getting home because he’s had to turn back to the last classroom to grab it. He bangs the door wide, and hears a sudden sharp intake of breath, swallowing a… sob?

“…uh. Hello?”  


A tiny sniffle, and silence.

Whoever it is doesn’t want anyone seeing them upset, obviously. Ben bites his lip, wondering if the best thing to do is leave them and not embarrass them, or… fuck it. Being a teenager fucking sucks. This other kid knows it, too, and how many times had Ben hoped someone would see how shitty he felt, and offer to help? Too many damn times. What if the kid - what if it’s too much and if he doesn’t help…

“I’m gonna come back there,” he calls, figuring they’re in the supplies closet. “Don’t worry. I’m only going to–”  


A scrape, and he realises something’s been pushed to block the door. Ben smiles to himself: the closet opens outwards, but the message is still clear. He’ll respect their privacy, but he isn’t going to give up now.

“I don’t know who you are, okay? So… I guess if you really want leaving alone, I’ll go, but not until I try to help. I know it kinda sucks right now. There’s exams and quizzes and shit. Maybe home stuff, I dunno. But you should talk to people. Even if it’s the counsellor, or your doctor, or a helpline…”  


More silence. 

“…if you… if you don’t tell people you need help, they might not know, and then you won’t get it.”  


“Like anyone cares,” comes the sharp reply from a familiar (and surprising) voice.  


“Hux?”  


“Yeah. Laugh it up, Solo. I’m just… tired.”  


Tired, and crying in a closet. Ben’s never seen him get shoved around, more like registered the snickering into hands about him. He’s not popular, but he’s not - to Ben’s knowledge - much of a victim. 

“I’m not laughing. My dad sent me to a shrink, you know. So I’m really not laughing. Look, you don’t like me, I get it, but you need to try to like _you_. And I’m not saying it in–”  


The door opens, and he sees the state Hux is in. Red, puffy eyes. Streaked cheeks. Sniffling nose. He’s really been sobbing, hasn’t he? 

“Just pretend you never saw me.”  


Ben shakes his head. “No. Look. I know we don’t… I know you don’t think I’m smart enough to talk to you, but promise me you’ll reach out to someone? I mean… even if you wanna just grab a coffee some time…”

Hux’s arms fold around himself, his bag flopping from shoulder to the crook of his arm. “It wasn’t that I thought you were stupid. I _know_ you’re smarter than you let people think.”

“…then why did you tell me not to–”  


“I don’t… _people_ well. The whole… thing. It’s easier if I just don’t even try.”  


Ben remembers feeling that way, all too well. It’s a fight to make eye-contact, to smile, to realise people are either lost in their own worlds, or don’t care enough to smile back. To drag yourself up, over and over, and reach out even though you’re afraid you’ll fall over.

“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one. In case you haven’t noticed, most kids are struggling with that.”  


“Oh _please_ ,” Hux snorts, derisively. “Cry me a river.”  


“I’m serious. Even the popular kids… but hey. If you wanna talk about other stuff, we can.”  


Hux’s sleeve has slipped over one hand, but not the other. He’s worrying it with his fingers, nervously. “Right. Because I’m a font of all conversation and small talk.”

“You could start by telling me about your college ideas. I bet you have some, don’t you? Maybe even a career plan?”  


“Don’t make fun of me!”  


“I’m not!” Hands up, defensively. “Come on. Grab a coffee with me. Give me an hour to make you feel better. If you never want to look me in the eye again after that, cool.”  


“Right. Because… you clearly want to spend time with me. This is a pity thing, or a mocking thing.”  


“Uh… even if it is pity, so what? That means I feel sorry for _you_. Why don’t you give it a shot? If you still find you can’t _people_ with me, what did you lose? An hour, and the cost of a coffee.”  


“You mean you’re not even buying?”  


Ben is about to say something, when he sees the tiniest of smiles in the corner of Hux’s lips. He’s trying to joke. “Okay, it’s my idea, I’ll spring for it. And a muffin.”

“No need to come across _that_ fast.”  


“What can I say, I like to make a good impression. And if you’re eating a muffin, you’ll take longer, and run away less fast.”  


Hux rubs the heel of his hand into his eyes, and straightens up. “Make mine a latte. Decaf. No caffeine after lunch. Not if I ever want to sleep again.”

“Roger that,” Ben says. “I know a great place. C’mon. You can tell me all the things no one talks about, the stuff that happened years ago. You know, the noodle incidents.”  


“I suppose… that could be fun,” Hux concedes. “Only if you tell me things, too.”  


“Like?”  


“Like where you came from, how are you keeping up with the curriculum if you move so much, and why do you want the world to think you’re stupid?”  


Ah, so, nothing easy. “I’m gonna need a _big_ mug.”

“Me too.”  


But he’s sort of smiling now, so that’s a success. Yeah. Ben leads him out, and wonders why he didn’t see the signs sooner. Hux isn’t _mean_ , he’s **afraid**. Fear does dumb things to people. (He should know that, too.)


	2. Chapter 2

Decaf is ridiculous. Ben never knows why people would bother drinking something that tastes of coffee if you’re not getting the caffeine buzz, but it’s his body. 

The muffins are all blueberry, so he gets a slice of lemon cake for himself, and a tall, milk-and-ice blended concoction. His is _not_ decaf. Hux has picked a table off to one side, sort of tucked into a corner, and Ben brings over the drinks and cakes, sliding in opposite him. 

He’s impressed by how quickly the other boy has made his face look normal again. Sure, Ben hasn’t cried in public in a few years now, but it had always been an overly-dramatic, snotty, blotchy-skinned mess afterwards. Hux just looks… angry again.

Ben uses his fork to slice off a section of the cake, one knee jogging up and down. He can’t always sit still, especially when he’s thinking hard about something. 

“You don’t need to stay with me, you know. I’m not a danger to myself - or others.”  


“Yeah, well, there’s more than physical harm,” Ben replies, avoiding his eyes. “And we just started being friends. Why wouldn’t you want to have a coffee with me?”  


Silence, except for the slow tap of the latte spoon in the tall glass. “We’re not friends.”

“Not with that attitude.”  


“You took pity on me. You want to spend your guilt, and go back to your life, high on your minor act of charity. I’m not interested in being your pet project.”  


“Hux… you ever think that someone might _actually_ care about you?”  


“Why? You don’t know me. You’re clearly doing this out of some ridiculous need to be a saviour. It’s disgusting, and–”  


“Is it really that hard for you to imagine compassion exists? Even for someone as assholey as you?”  


Hux’s chair slides back, and Ben hooks his foot around the leg, dragging it back under the table. 

“I’m _fine_.”  


“Yeah. Right. I always cry when I’m fine.”  


Sea-tossed eyes dart around, looking to see if anyone heard. “Would you keep it down?”

“If you felt fine, why do you feel the need to hide it? Why were you locked in a closet, and why won’t you talk about it now?”  


“Says the kid who is deliberately screwing his GPA over, just to not get on anyone’s radar.”  


“My… hey!”  


“Look, I don’t need lessons in sincerity from you. You’re as much of a fraud as I am, Solo.”  


Ben slumps. “This is why you don’t have friends. You won’t even _try_ to let someone get close to you.”

“Why would I? Friends are complicated, and they are distracting, and emotionally draining, and ultimately they betray you.”  


Okay. That’s quite a lot of crap all at once. “What if we’re not friends.”

“Then I drink my coffee and we never make eye-contact again, like I wanted.”  


“What if,” Ben pushes, not prepared to let up, “…we become… study buddies. Or, you know, something less lame like I’m in kindergarten or something.”   


That makes Hux pause, and he pulls himself upright in his chair. “You are attempting to appeal to my academic interests to forge a connection.”

“Kinda more clinical and sociopathic way of looking at it, but yeah. You’re smart. I’m… kinda smart. You’re alone, and I’m not exactly Mr Popular…”  


Hux frowns. “I don’t… I told you I don’t _people_.”

“I people. Or, enough. Moving around so much means I have reasonable skills at passing, but no real experience in anything long-term.”  


“And what do you get out of this?”  


“Hopefully a friend, and also maybe the satisfaction of helping you. Maybe you don’t want any friends, but you’re gonna struggle if you spend your whole life alienating everyone.”  


“Right.” Hux has pulled all the blueberries out of his muffin, lining them up on the spread-flat muffin case. In size order. “So you want me to learn how to be a Real Boy.”  


“Or just how to compromise. I told you… I’m not really in the in crowd. You don’t have any kind of ulterior motive you’re pursuing. We can just… work together to further our education, and be a bit less lonely.”  


“And if I tell you I want to think about it?”  


“I’ll give you my number. You can text me. Or you can just sit with me at lunch, or something.”  


Hux wipes his fingers on his napkin, even though he then picks up his de-berried muffin and messes them up again. “Then I’ll think about it.”

“Cool.” Ben isn’t sure why he all of a sudden feels the need for this to work, but he does. He can see how much distress Hux is in, and yeah, he wants it to stop. Maybe it is some stupid saviour complex, but yeah. (Or maybe he just wants to tackle someone who is an easy mark…)  


He finishes his drink, and reaches for his phone.

“No need,” Hux says, waving a hand.  


“Huh?”  


“I remember phone numbers. You know yours? Just tell me it, and I’ll remember.”  


“…okay.” It could also be him passing him off, but Ben shrugs, and recites the number.  


“See you around, Solo.”  


“Not if I see you first, Hux.”  



End file.
